


Sayna's Last Lullaby

by Eulalia_Dear



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-12 20:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5679682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eulalia_Dear/pseuds/Eulalia_Dear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Focusing Sayna's last moments before her death at the cruel hands of Vilu Daskar. This is meant to fill the gap from The Legend of Luke. This is also my very first fanfic, so please review, wot wot!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sayna's Last Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Redwall belongs to the late Brian Jacques. I only wrote the fanfic with an occasional helping hand from the spirit of Martin the Warrior because this is my first Redwall fanfic I have written. Blinkin’ comments or critiques are always welcome, wot wot!

  
[ ](http://gracefultatiana1897.deviantart.com/art/Sayna-s-Last-Lullaby-574543240)  


  


    The lustful cry of a tiny mousebabe interrupted his grandmother's knitting as it reached within Windred's earshot. Taking pity on him, she sauntered to his cradle and picked him up.

    "Oh Sayna dear!" Windred chuckled, glancing at her grandson's pleading look. "I think he's hungry."

    "Oh dear! Martin, I'm coming!" Sayna paused her sweeping to answer her little son's wailings. Seeing that her mother was right, she peeled off a part of her tunic to reveal one of her breasts for little Martin to suckle. The wailings died quite down.

    Windred smiled as she watched her grandson take his own drink at his mother's milk. "I think Martin grows fast, to the awe of his father. Someday he will be a leader!"

    "Indeed," Sayna giggled, her gaze still on her little mousebabe who only stared as her with his grey eyes. "Now that his hunger is satisfied, it's time for little Martin to sleep. A little hum will do, but shower it with words, and it becomes much sweeter!"

    She wrapped her breast back into her tunic and gently rocked her little son while crooning a little lullaby.

_My little warrior, close your eyes,_

_May sleep guide you through dreams twinkling nice,_

_One day may you rise up with your name_

_Shall always ring with glory and fame._

_Have faith, be brave;_

_Ev'rybeast looks up to you._

_Have hope, be sincere;_

_Through time's seas Fate'll guide you._

_Have love, be kind,_

_A rose will bloom so gently._

_That rose in mind_

_Will touch your heart so sweetly._

    Sayna was forming her last notes from her mouth when a young mouse named Timballisto shattered the peaceful moment with his sudden presence. His voice pronounced urgent warning. "Let's get out of here!"

    Sayna's once serene face shaped into a look of terror. "What is it? Invaders?"

    "Yes, incoming invaders!" Timballisto wasted no time in replying. "Coming from the big red ship! Hundreds of 'em, heading quickly toward us with slaughter! Led by a bloody pirate stoat in red!"

    A sudden impulse to run into battle invaded Sayna's nerves like a possessing demon-beast, but she kept still cradling the sleeping mousebabe in her arms. "Don't worry, my little Martin," she whispered. "Mother's going to ward off the bloody invaders that are bracing toward us very quickly. Our time will be short, for your mother will soon be gone forever after the invaders have given up fighting. But don't fret, my little warrior. Your father will return, and I will be always by your side, watching you for-"

    A bright spark of lightning flashed outside, creating a dramatic effect for a mysterious unwelcomed guest looming toward her. The mousewife's gaze shifted from little Martin to the tall pirate stoat garbed in blood-red cloak with elegant headgear crowned in his head. "Greetings, my fair lady."

    "Who are you?" Sayna cried, her face shaping anger toward him.

    "I am Vilu Daskar, illustrious captain of the  _Goreleech_  and ruler of the high seas, whom everybeast, no matter who they are, is required to bow down to." He produced his bone-handled scimitar and aimed its silver blade toward the terrified mousewife. "Including you, my fair lady. You must bow down to me, or I will cut you to bits and pieces for the seagulls to eat!"

    Sayna's rage boiled even more, unhindered by the the threatening sight of the blade. "I am  _not_  going to bow down to a bloody son of a demon-beast like you!" With that, she sauntered toward the old rock-face where Windred was hiding.

    "Mother," Sayna hurried on, her grey eyes fixed on both Martin and Windred, "please keep my little Martin safe from that pirate and his vermin. I will return when fortune permits me to survive through the battle."

    "But Sayna, dear," Windred cried as she took into her arms the mousebabe, who was beginning to wail again. "I fear your own safety. What should I do next?"

    "There isn't any time left. Run, with Timballisto and Fripple waiting for you up there! Climb to the cliff above while I'm dealing with that bloody stoat!"

    With one more fleeting glance at her mother and son, Sayna returned to face Vilu Daskar, with the limp figure of a young mousemaid bathed in blood lay sprawled below him.

    "Did you recognize her?" Vilu pointed his scimitar to the dead body. "She didn't bow down to me. The same could happen to you if you defy me that way!"

    "Fripple!" Sayna immediately recognized her friend's dead form. Her grey eyes blazed with newfound rage toward Vilu. "You will pay for this mess, stoat!"

    Catching the sight of a long wooden stick before her, she picked it up and whacked his snout with it. But the pirate stoat only tolerated the pain; instead he snapped it in two with a swish.

    "You shall never insult the greatness and majesty of Vilu Daskar!" His evil guffaw echoed as he swashed his scimitar toward the mousewife, which repeatedly dodged with every move.

    Sayna hurled every little thing she could get her paws on to the stoat. "Take that, pea-brain!" But before she could take her paw on a fork, she suddenly felt a sharp stinging sensation engulfing her. It was a sharp sickle blade stabbing her left breast, with streams of blood staining her yellow-green tunic, and it was Vilu's scimitar!

    Unaware of life quickly ebbing away from her, she went on to snatch a fork and thrust it on Vilu's arm, which unfortunately produced very little pain on part of him.

    "A price you will have to pay dearly for taking my friend Fripple's life. Now my husband…" she gasped for dear life, "Luke the Warrior…will come…to challenge you…in battle…on behalf…of my son Martin. May your so-called majesty…will be brought down…to nothing…bird-brained filth." With that, her eyes closed for the last time as she collapsed to the dirt-packed ground below.

    Vilu Daskar gazed at the mousewife's body, his face etching with satisfaction and pleasure. "Sorry, my fair lady," he apologized sarcastically, "that is the price you have to pay for giving Vilu Daskar a bad name. Farewell, you poor evil witch, I will find your husband and silence him!" He guffawed evilly as he dashed away to rejoin his henchbeasts in their battle.

* * *

    Windred held her little grandson Martin into her arms as she joined Timballisto in a daring escape up to the cliff. It was raining heavily, and the chilling wind seemed to slow down their two frail bodies.

    "Oh dear, my legs can't go through those craggy stones," she complained to Timballisto, her legs and feet quivering with pain brought by old age. "Can you please handle Martin for me?"

    The young mouse's face trembled with fear. "I'm afraid not, marm, I can't handle babies, the dirty vermin are after us. But keep hurrying up!"

    They went on the way struggling to outspeed the vermin in the pounding rain, but as Timballisto finally set his feet on the crags, he noticed that Windred and Martin were not there. He looked down to see only the light cream-coloured cloak – the one worn by Windred – lying on the wet sand below. Only ten or so meters away were the speeding feet of the vermin army, looming toward the young mouse and trampling the cloak. Timballisto wasted no time chasing and hiding himself away from them, but he had no time to spare for the retrieval of Windred and little Martin to safety.

  



End file.
